A Beautiful Mess
by ibelieveinthegood
Summary: Guys of SGH three-shot. Mark, Derek, Alex POVs. ; . Post-"Blink" and "Another Second Chance". x3
1. Chapter 1

**So, yes, this is gonna be Mark and Lexie; it's my first real time writing them. (The other one didn't count. ) Anyways, you should know (if you don't already) that I cannot STAND Lexie, and the thought of Mark and Lexie makes me wanna vomit. However, I was in the kitchen, scooping some Splenda into my coffee mug, and I heard her voice. This must make me crazy, I know, but it's the writing process, and I'm sure many of you are familiar with that, lol. Anyways. I hope you enjoy it (and even if you don't), drop me a line to let me know you're here and reading. It means a lot. **

**  
I wish I could link the song to youtube here, but I can't. So just search for it, lol. ;D**

**The song, oh, what can I say about that? Jason Mraz is my favorite artist; his lyrics are strong, beautiful… the music is always delicate, but powerful. iTunes shuffle is a brilliant thing. I heard this song Friday morning (and as already previously stated, it is my favorite one), and knew I had to try to write something for Grey's for it. It's my first fic-related writing in nearly two months, I'm a bit out of practice.**

**Oh, you should also probably know that the crossover was the first full episode of the season I've seen (because I am a diehard Addison fan, and also, I prefer Private Practice this season, even if it is contrived drama).**

**Enough rambling.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I in any way affiliated with, Grey's Anatomy. All characters are the property of Shondaland, et al. Nor do I own the song. **

-xXx-

The first thing I notice upon my return from Los Angeles – aside from Seattle's angry, yet somehow welcoming rain and cooler temperatures, of course – is how empty the apartment is when I open the door. The air is somehow stale, the apartment dark and empty of everything that belongs to Lexie. Her framed photographs are taken off the walls, leaving ugly, exposed nails in their places. Her clothes, shoes, notebooks and textbooks are gone, too. If I try hard enough, breathe deeply enough, I could probably still smell her scent on the couch or in the bed.

"Damn," is all Sloan says when she steps in behind me. "She's really gone, huh?"

I drop my daughter's duffel bag at our feet and look down at her. "Looks that way," I offer before silence filters around us.

She wraps her arm around my back and pulls me closer to her. "I'm really sorry, Mark. I know it's my fault."

Her words take me by surprise, and for a brief moment, I almost let her take the blame. "I'm your dad, kid. I'd choose you over anyone, every day. It wasn't fair of her to do that."

"That was kind of lame," Sloan replies, and she pulls her arm away from me, almost too quickly. She must have felt it, too, because she turns toward me and says, "I am sorry, though. Thank you for everything you've done for me."

I don't say anything, can't say anything.

So she says, "I think I'll go take a shower… and then maybe take a nap, if that's okay with you?"

"Whatever you want, baby," I whisper, my voice cracking slightly. She studies me for a brief moment – narrowing her eyes at me and looking me up and down – before she turns away and walks toward the bathroom.

I pick her duffel bag back up and take it into her makeshift bedroom and set it down on her bed. As I unzip the bag to unpack her things – that's what a father would do, right? – a picture taped up on the wall catches my eye. It is her last sonogram, the one taken before the whole amniotic bands/Addison/Lexie break-up mess. I cross the room and pull the sonogram from the wall, holding the thin film in my hands. My heart swells, and I hear Addison's voice.

_Grandpa. Grandpa. Grandpa._

At not even forty, I shouldn't be a grandpa. Hell, if I'm being honest, I shouldn't be a father. They're right, all of them – Addison, Derek, Sam, Naomi, even Lexie; I can barely take care of myself. But now I have Sloan, who is eighteen and about to be a mother herself. I have no choice but to be a father to this girl, to be the father I'm guessing … to be the father_ I know _she's never had. I will help her raise this baby. I will do right by my little girl, by my namesake.

I stare at this sonogram for what feels like an eternity, this little 'sneak peek' of my future, and tears fill my eyes. I let one fall as I sit down on her brand-new bed.

I hear Sloan clear her throat as she timidly knocks on the room-divider-slash-door to her bedroom. "Daddy?" she whispers, her voice small and almost child-like. She crosses the room and sits down on the bed beside me; I pull her close, and she rests her head on my shoulder. "Do you…," she pauses as she reaches out and takes the picture from me. "Can we do this?"

"We're Sloans, kid," I reply, putting a brave face on. "We can do anything."

She half-laughs, half-snorts at my response. "You know how to change diapers? Because I sure as hell don't."

I shrug in response, chuckling a little. "We'll figure it out."

"Daddy," she says suddenly, her voice serious and… older … now.

It is the second time she's called me 'daddy'. But I barely register that now; she sounds almost panicked, so naturally, I am panicked, too. "What's the matter?" I ask, worrying about her and the baby. "Are you in pain, Sloan?"

She sits up and turns toward me, resting her hand on her tiny baby bump. She shakes her head, but tears line her eyes. "What if I… want to give this baby up for adoption? What if I can't… what if we can't be enough for him?"

"What makes you say that?" is what I manage to say, taken aback by her question.

"I am a teenager, Mark. You're a plastic surgeon who is almost never home. Both you and I… we can't take care of a _healthy_ baby. What if he still has serious health complications?"

"We've been over this, baby," I reply. "I have plenty of vacation time saved up, I can take a leave from the hospital if necessary. We'll pay for the best doctors… Addison will come back to Seattle if she needs to. We can do it, Sloan. Don't give up hope," I add, because it seems like a fatherly thing to say.

"I didn't come here to dump all of this responsibility on you."

I sigh, and for some reason, guilt washes over me. "I… I'm your dad. And I know, I'm not a perfect person… and I barely even know you, and that's my own fault. And it's Samantha's fault, too. She should have called me. I would have been there for you. I would have loved to get to know you before now. And I'm gonna try like hell to make it up to you, okay? Trust me, baby. We can do this."

Tears cascade down her cheeks. She shakes her head and whimpers, "Daddy."

I lean over and press a kiss to her forehead. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course," she replies, wiping at her tears. "I trust you."

"Then," I say with a brief pause, "there's no more talk about giving up."

"Okay," she counters, and she narrows her eyes at me. By now, I recognize this look. It's the look I've gotten from Samantha, from Addison, from Lexie… from any woman I've ever slept with (or known). It's the "I'm about to say something smart-assy" look. She crosses her arms over her chest. "If we're not giving up… then you have to call Lexie. Because I know how much she means to you."

She looks smug. I smile and say, "Take your nap, kid," as I stand from the bed.

"Seriously, Mark. Call her or something," she says with a shrug as she lies down and stretches out across the bed. She looks at me expectantly.

I shake my head and turn her light off. "Have a good nap," I tease. She shakes her head at me and closes her eyes.

I leave her in the darkness and head into my bedroom to unpack my own luggage. After about twenty minutes of silence – a silence that never would have been there before, normally Lexie would be chattering my ear off, or she and Sloan would be arguing about something – I decide that my daughter's right. I place a few calls to the hospital, and after a brief conversation with Derek (who says he has something to tell me, something that could change everything), I learn that it's Lexie's day off, and that she's at Meredith's.

Of course she is.

I make the drive across town to the 'Casa de Grey,' hoping that Lexie is the only one there. At a red light, I wonder if I should stop and get her flowers or something.

"Nah," I say out loud. "Too cheesy," I add. 'Too desperate, too,' is what I'm thinking.

We've never had a flowers-and-apologies relationship… to be honest, I suppose it was mostly sexually charged. And based on the forbidden, an act of rebellion.

But somewhere along the way, somehow… I managed to fall in love with Alexandra Caroline Grey.

I knock on the door three times, and ring the doorbell once, before Karev – sporting pajama bottoms and red, tired eyes, a cereal bowl in hand – opens the door. "Hey, man," he says, avoiding eye contact.

"Lexie here?" I ask.

"Uh, yeah. She's in Mer's room, I think," he says, keeping his eyes focused on the floor. "How's your kid?"

"She's fine. Baby looks good," I answer honestly, somewhat comforted by the fact that, even though I know he was only making conversation, he at least asked how my girl is doing. "Mind if I come in?"

"Go on up," he replies, moving out of my way. He shuts the door behind me as I step into the foyer. He heads back to the living room and plops down on the couch before turning the volume up on the TV. I shake my head and head toward the stairs.

I knock on Meredith's bedroom door.

"Who is it?" Lexie's voice floats through the door, and, I swear to God, my heart skips a beat. I've _missed_ her. What the hell has she done to me?

"Little Grey?" I whisper, reverting back to the nickname I knew she hated.

She opens the door and sighs. Her eyes meet mine, and she looks pissed off. "What are you doing here, Mark?"

"Hello to you, too," I say with a smirk, but she doesn't look amused. She narrows her eyes at me, and I recognize this look too. It's the "you're such an asshole, Mark Sloan" look. I offer her a sheepish smile and a shrug. "Can we talk?"

She opens the door all the way. "Just let me get my jacket," she says with a sigh. A small, maybe insincere smile unfolds on her lips, before it falls again. Her eyes cloud with sadness. "Oh, God. Is Sloan okay? Is the baby okay?" she asks in a worried tone.

"She's fine," I quickly reply.

Relief washes over her features. "Oh, thank God," she gushes. "Let me get my coat, and we can go on a walk," Lexie says.

I smile as I wait for her.

"Okay," she says softly, her cheeks pink as she rejoins me in the hallway. "Ready? I think there's a park somewhere down the street."

"That's fine," I reply, watching her as she looked away from me and led the way down the stairs.

We walk in relative silence, the only sounds are our even breaths and the creaking stairs under our shifting weight.

"Where you goin'?" Alex asks from his place on the couch, slurping cereal off of his spoon.

She narrows her eyes at him and, almost angrily, replies, "None of your business."

He scoffs, and an almost gleeful smirk crosses his lips. "Whatever you say, babe."

Her cheeks burn when my eyes meet hers. I give her a questioning glance, but she looks away, turning her attention back to Alex. "Shut the hell up, Karev," she defends. "Let's go, Mark," she says a quick moment later, tugging on my arm.

"See ya later, Karev," I say, if only to feel less awkward.

He waves, a cocky grin now across his lips, before returning his attention to his now-soggy cereal and the sports recaps on ESPN. Lexie keeps her eyes focused on the ground as we leave the house.

We walk down the street in absolute silence now. The rain has, by this time, let up a bit, so it's now a delicate mist instead of the earlier storm. Our hands hang between us in an awkward limbo; she still hasn't said a word to – or even looked at – me.

We reach the park within a few minutes. "Swings?" I ask, knowing that she'd say yes.

She nods and once again takes the lead. She sits down on a swing, not bothering to dump the gathered puddle of water off of the seat. I step behind her and take the chains in my fingertips. I pull the chains back, ready to push the swing, ready to set the pendulum in motion, but she digs her heels into the muddy-dirt.

"Wait," she whispers.

"What, Lex?"

"I slept with Alex," she blurts out barely a second later.

I drop from the chains from my grip – and she loses her footing briefly, shifting forward – and I suck in a deep breath. She steadies herself. Her words wound me… but only because she surprises me. I had suspected something like this, simply because of the way they were acting at the house. But it still stung. I mean…_ damn. _

"Say something," she urges.

I suck in a deep breath again, trying – but failing – to quickly recover. "I slept with Addison."

She stands up from the swing fast and quickly turns around to face me. Her eyes are wide; she looks pissed. I open my mouth to say something, but she slaps me first. Her hand is quick on my cheek – only there for a millisecond – but she uses enough force that she leaves a hot print on my skin.

"Oh," she gasps, immediately apologetic. She places her fingertips back on my cheek, her eyes softening. She tears up almost immediately. "I'm so… sorry."

"What exactly are you sorry for, Lexie?"

Her lip quivers and a tear trickles down her cheek. She shakes her head and angrily wipes at her bright red cheeks. I reach out to her, but she shoves my arm away. The rain picks back up with the shifting wind; thunder rolls in the distance.

"Lexie…," I say, but that's all I manage as I study her. For the first time, I'm realizing how young she really is. She's barely seven years older than Sloan… and for the first time, she looks it. She looks insecure, unsure, young… vulnerable. I run my hand over my hair, smoothing it back with the rain.

Raindrops cling to her hair, clumping it together. She shivers. "All of it." Her voice cracks. "But mostly…," she says a moment later, "I'm sorry I tried to make you choose between your daughter, who so very clearly needs you… and me. That wasn't fair. It wasn't… fair," she rambles, her voice trailing off to a cracked whisper.

Lightning flashes in the sky. I look up, and judging by the storm clouds that have rolled in, we have about ten minutes before it gets too bad… before it gets to the point where we shouldn't be outside. It's early in the year for such a storm – it's still only winter, but it looks as if it could be late summer – but… that's … _life_.

She looks up at the sky, too. "Maybe we should head back to Meredith's," she offers.

I shake my head 'no.' "We can't talk there," I explain and she nods in agreement. "My car is there, though. We can go somewhere…"

"Ferry," she says with a shrug.

I just nod, unsure of what to say. She hangs her head and takes a step back toward the park entrance. Before she's out of my reach, I reach out and grab her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. I grip her hand in mine and squeeze it protectively, silently letting her know that somehow, it would all be okay.

She reluctantly squeezes my hand back; we walk back to the house in silence. She goes inside, only to grab a dry coat and her purse while I wait in my car. The windshield wipers fall into a pattern – click, wipe, click, wipe – as I back the car out of the driveway.

She sighs as she pulls her seatbelt over her shoulder and across her lap, pressing it into the lock. I reach over and turn the radio off. Lexie leans over and turns it back on. "Stop it," I say. "We need to talk."

Lexie reaches her hand back out and presses the button. "Sam called Derek and told him you were thinking of moving to LA with Sloan to be with Addison… to have her help you raise the baby," she says softly. "I didn't … I thought something was seriously wrong with Sloan and the baby! I couldn't sleep, Mark. I couldn't eat. Cristina shoved me to the pit because I couldn't even focus on charting!" she screeches.

I press my foot to the brake as we approach a red light. "I didn't want to bother you."

She scoffs. "Are you even listening to me? You and your daughter and that little, itty-bitty baby… you were all I could think about for days! And then I hear through the frickin' hospital grapevine that you're leaving for Los Angeles?!"

My cheeks burn as the light turns green; I tap lightly on the gas. "It was just talk, Lexie. Seattle, as much as I hate it sometimes, is home."

"Did Addison turn you down?" Her immaturity shines through with this question.

And as much as I hate to admit it, it stings. "No," I reply softly. "I turned her down."

She gives me an incredulous look.

"Don't give me that look; it's the truth," I say, almost defensively. "And I know, I know that I threw a lot at you… with moving Sloan in, and saying that we'd help her raise the baby… and that wasn't fair to you either," I explain, and my voice cracks ever so slightly. By now, we've reached the ferry, just in time before it leaves the dock. I put the car into 'park' in the designated spot. "You're young… you're still wet behind your ears, Lexie. That wasn't something I should have just volunteered you to do. We should have discussed it. And for that, I apologize. I love you."

"Wow," she manages to squeak out, tears flooding her eyes once again. She unbuckles her seatbelt and opens the passenger side door, and within seconds, she's up and out of the car.

I rub my hands over my face before unbuckling my own seatbelt. I open the door and step out, pressing the lock on my keys before turning around to search for her.

After a long three or so minutes, I find her on the top deck of the ferry, leaning over the railing and looking out at the water. I tap her on the shoulder and she turns around and looks at me. Her eyes are red and swollen, her cheeks bright red. Her mouth opens and closes like a fish, as she searches for the words to say.

I reach out and smooth her wet, matted hair away from her face. I cup her cheek in my hand; she whimpers. "So here we are…," I say as another clap of thunder rolls through the sky.

She jumps as a bolt of lightning quickly flashes after the thunderclap. "I've been thinking about it, over and over and over again… making lists and analyzing every detail… and it doesn't make sense for me to want to do this, but Mark," Lexie says, almost breathlessly as she begins her Meredith-like – they are sisters, after all – ramble, "I want to help you. I don't know what the hell I was thinking before! But you're right, you're so… right. She needs us to help her, she's your daughter! And if that means I'm gonna be a grandmother at the age of twenty-five… well, then, I'm probably the youngest grandma ever. Call the Guinness Book of World Records, for all I care… but I…"

I cut her off by pressing my lips to hers. She snakes her arms around my neck, and I deepen the kiss, reconnecting with her almost instantly. "Lexie," I say softly, breaking apart from her for a moment. I run my thumb over her cheek. "Are you serious?"

She nods and grins. "We'll all learn together. I'm sure it won't be easy, and that Sloan and I won't see eye-to-eye ninety percent of the time, and that we'll all fight constantly… but this baby, he needs all of us. We'll just have to make it work. It's simple."

I smile at her words before leaning down to press another kiss against her lips. "Ferry's docking," I say, and she laughs. "What?" I ask, slightly confused.

"All of my stuff is at my sister's... plus the apartment is by the hospital," she explains. "Neither location required a ferry ride." She dissolves into giggles.

I smile, and say, "It doesn't matter."

She leans up and kisses me, reconnecting again. "It'll be a long ride back," she mumbles in between kisses.

"Mmm," I agree. I pull her in for a tight hug; she rests her head on my chest. We stand there together – face to face, heart to heart – and I know that… as much as it killed me to leave Addison, who I loved at one time… I somehow made the right choice.

Lexie is the right choice.

Hours later, we return home from Meredith's – where we packed Lexie's stuff back up, but to be honest, most of it was still in the black trash bags she had used, so it was fairly simple. Derek had said he needs to talk to me about that _'thing'_ – it was huge, life-altering and it needed to stay between 'us' – but really, I wasn't in the mood for gossip… or any other life-changing events. I'd had enough for one day. All I wanted to do was go home and spend time with my girls. And I told him that much, too. Alex called me a pussy, but you know… at least I'm not the one who's waiting around for an absent wife to show back up. I told him that, too. And I got the "You're a dick, Mark Sloan" look from both Grey sisters.

Sloan is sitting on the couch, her hair in a loose ponytail, when Lexie and I walk in the door, hand in hand. She turns around and looks at us, her smile wide, reaching from ear to ear. "Hey," she says, patting the cushions on the couch beside her. "I just ordered pizza, I hope that's okay. I was getting worried…," her voice trails off as her hand falls to her baby bump.

I smile at her. She seems older now, only though it's been a few hours since I've last seen her. Motherly. So, naturally, I tease her. "Hey, who's the parent here?" I ask, and Lexie nudges my shoulder.

"Sometimes," Sloan says, playfully narrowing her eyes, "it's hard to tell."

We all laugh. Lexie moves to take her bags back to the bedroom. "We'll do that later," I say, tugging on her free hand to pull her back. "What are you watching, Sloan?"

"Some _Lifetime_ movie," she shrugs, "but we can watch something else. Together?"

I glance to Lexie, who nods and smiles, setting the trash bags back down on the floor. We step into the living room and join my daughter on the couch. She slides over to the far left cushion, and Lexie takes the seat on the right, leaving me to sit in the middle between them.

Sloan absently flips through the channels, draping her legs over mine to get more comfortable. Lexie cuddles up beside me, and for the first time in what feels like forever… I'm happy.

When the pizza delivery guy arrives, Sloan is up and at the door before I can even react. Normally, it would be an argument, trying to decide who'd have to get up to get it. But not this time. She hands him a twenty, and as an afterthought, shoves a few crumpled singles into his hand for a tip. She grabs a roll of paper towels from the kitchen-slash-study-slash-laundry room and heads back into the living room.

She sets the pizza onto the coffee table and rushes back into the kitchen; she returns seconds later with three water bottles and a picture frame. She hands a bottle to both Lexie and me before propping the frame up on its stand on the table.

"Where did you get that?" Lexie asks, her eyes on the frame, as she takes a sip of water.

Sloan shrugs. "You forgot it in the kitchen. I found it when I was cleaning up earlier."

"You cleaned?" I ask incredulously, and both she and Lexie nudge my shoulder as Sloan rejoins us on the couch.

"Shut _up_," she teases, and I laugh as I lean over and kiss her cheek.

Silence surrounds us for a few moments as we all, simultaneously, look to the photo that is now proudly displayed on the coffee table. It's the one Bailey snapped of us at Christmas – before Sloan and Lexie were fighting – and though our smiles are superficial, that's us in the 'before'. I sit back against the couch.

"Well, let's eat!" Lexie cheerfully says, effectively breaking the silence.

I watch as they each grab a slice and settle back against the couch. The TV is playing some show on MTV – which didn't seem to have anything to do with music, defeating the purpose of the channel – and the ladies in my life are calm and happy. I glance back and forth between them.

"What?" they ask at the same time.

Sloan has cheese hanging from her lip; Lexie's mouth is full. They both dissolve into giggles. I smile, shake my head and grab a piece of pizza for myself. We eat and absentmindedly listen to the show as we make small talk.

It feels like home.

If this is a glimpse of the future, of the 'after'… I'll take it.


	2. Derek

**Hey everyone!**

Happy Bones-day! (And Grey's Day, too, I suppose. )

As you may or may not know, I've decided to write Derek's and Alex's POVs too. This one is Derek's. I'm not sure how much I like it, but it's just what came out when I was writing.

I intended on having this done by Tuesday... and Alex's done by today... but a very good friend of mine's father passed away very suddenly Monday morning from a short, hard battle with a cancer that took over (and when I say short, I mean short. It was almost a month since his diagnosis). So I've been a little distracted. Something like this.... makes you grateful for what you do have, and is teaching me not to take a single thing for granted for another moment.

With that being said, thank you for reading and commenting. You guys make this all worth the crazy, drawn out process.

Also, in this, we're pretending those sneak peeks are non-existent.

Let me know what you think, good or bad. Derek's my weak point (in more ways than one. Ha!)

I need to chill with these rambling author notes.

-xXx-

She sighs at me for the tenth time in five minutes (though it's felt like much longer). I lower the newspaper I'm reading and glance in her direction, and she looks away, pretending to be engrossed in one of her mother's journals. "What?" I ask, the simple word coming our harsher than I'd have liked it to.

"You can't tell anyone, Derek. Not even Mark. Especially not Mark," she argues.

I set the paper down on the table. Her eyes meet mine – they're dark green now, so I know she's pissed off. That's one of the things I love about Meredith; even when she's avoiding – or in this case, pretending to be avoiding – I can read her like a book, especially through her eyes. Right now, they're deep emerald-green – so dark, in fact, they're almost black. That means she's pissed.

When I don't answer, she sighs again.

"Will you stop sighing at me?"

To prove a point, she sighs again.

"Meredith."

"Don't Meredith me," she mocks, setting her own reading material down. "You can't tell anyone. You promised me, Derek."

"I don't specifically remember that," I tease, if only to lighten the mood. But it doesn't work. She narrows her eyes at me. "Come on, Meredith. These are people's lives we're talking about here."

"Exactly," she huffs.

It's my turn to sigh. She crosses the kitchen toward me and leans forward, pressing her forehead to mine. "Listen to me, Derek Christopher Shepherd." Meredith presses a firm kiss to my lips. "You. Are. Not. Telling. A. Soul. Or you know what'll happen?"

"What will happen?" I whisper back, locking my eyes on hers. I lean up for a second kiss, but she pulls away.

"I," Meredith breathily whispers, "will withhold _sex_." She presses her lips to mine again – cradling my skull in her hands. The kiss is deeper this time.

She pulls back suddenly. I groan.

"Mmm, starting already?" I ask.

She squeezes my upper thigh; my pulse races. "Down boy," she playfully teases. "We have to go to the hospital. I'm gonna be late for rounds."

I smile and (adoringly) shake my head at her. She stands up straight and says, "I'll meet you in the car in five minutes."

I watch as she turns and leaves, sauntering out of the kitchen. The front door opens and clicks shut moments later. Almost immediately, a half-naked Alex and an embarrassed-looking Lexie do the 'walk of shame' into the kitchen.

Lexie winces as she sees me. "Crap! You're still here!"

"Yep," I reply, quirking an eyebrow at her. Little Grey surprises me again.

"Don't tell Meredith." She squeezes her eyes shut as if she expected me to suddenly disappear. A cocky grin unfolds on Alex's lips. He wraps his arm around my sister-in-law and presses a showy kiss on her cheek.

"It's not any of my business," I say to fill the silence. "You are gonna be late for rounds, both of you. And Bailey will be on your asses. Meredith and I are leaving in exactly three minutes – do you want a ride?"

"Day off," Lexie mumbles.

"Karev?"

He stretches, pulling his arms over his head. "My day off too."

"Don't make a mess," is all I say as I stand up. Alex smirks; Lexie looks at least halfway offended. I grab my briefcase and quickly refill my coffee mug before rushing out the door to meet Meredith in the car.

We ride to the hospital in relative silence. I don't say anything about her sister, or Alex, or her sister and Alex. I don't bring up the chief and his drinking, as I know it will only cause issues and another argument. And fighting with Meredith is not how I'd like to start my day. She doesn't say anything either, though I know something else is bothering her, too. But, if I've learned anything about her – about my wife – it's that she'll open up when she's ready. So I don't say a thing.

As I pull into the parking lot, I take a deep breath and say, "I have a craniotomy at noon. Do you want in, or not?"

"What kind of question is that?" she asks. "Of course I want in, Derek."

"Meet me for prep at 11, then," I offer, putting the car into park. She leans over and kisses me on the lips – it's quick, like a habit, like we'd be doing it every day for the rest of our lives. I smile at her and she rolls her eyes.

Cristina knocks on the car window, motioning for Meredith to hurry up. Mer gives me an apologetic smile, but I only nod, and within seconds, she's out the door and halfway across the parking lot with her best friend.

I step into the hospital, mentally preparing for another busy day at Seattle Grace (it's too weird to call it Seattle Grace Mercy West, and truthfully, it's a stupid name). I have only the one surgery – but several new patient consults. And of course, I have to make a decision – do I talk to Mark about the chief? Do I talk to the chief directly? Or do I ignore it – like a mosquito, a temporary pest – and hope to hell it goes away?

I don't know.

Mark calls when I'm in my office. I pick up on the third ring, and even though my office phone has caller I.D., I answer with, "Dr. Derek Shepherd."

"Hey," Mark replies. "We're back from LA."

I sit back in my chair and place my feet – crossed at the ankles – onto my desk. "Is everything okay? How'd the second surgery go?"

Mark sighs. "It went well… everything's okay. She thinks that he'll be okay when he's born; if not, she'll come back up."

"That's good to hear," I offer, knowing that he was worried (I'm proud of that for him, too – he's being the father that girl desperately needs). "Hey," I say a moment later. "Do you want to get drinks tonight or something? There's something big I need to tell you; I need your help. It's huge. It can change… everything."

"Listen, yeah, we'll talk later," he says distractedly, and he sounds like he's on the verge of changing the subject. "Is Lexie at the hospital?"

_Crap._ "I take it things didn't go well with Addison?" I ask.

"Things with Addy were fine, Shepherd. Is Grey in or not?" He's impatient now.

"It's her day off. She's at Meredith's place."

"Thanks," he says, and the line goes dead.

I set the phone back down on its cradle and run my hand through my hair, wondering if I should call the house and warn Lexie or not. 'It's not my issue,' I decide… so I don't. I take a deep breath, and pick the phone back up and call Patricia – and schedule a meeting with Richard for the first thing tomorrow morning.

"Make it top priority," I add.

"Sure thing, Dr. S," she coos into the phone before hanging up.

Meredith pokes her head into my office. "Make what top priority?"

I quickly sit up and place my feet back on the floor. I drop the phone back onto the cradle again. She narrows her eyes at me, steps into the office and closes the door behind her. "Derek…"

"I just want to talk to Richard, Meredith. I won't tell him that you told me anything – just that I'm concerned that he's not doing surgeries anymore. He's avoiding his responsibilities as a doctor… no, more than that. He's _neglecting_ his responsibilities." She sits down in the chair across from me. "He won't even consult. He needs help, Meredith. And the patient, the one who turned orange after surgery… What if it happens again? What if he's doing more harm than good?"

"I can try talking to him again, Derek." Her voice is small, her cheeks are pink. "Give me some time, maybe I can…"

"This is bigger than you or me, Meredith. You can't fix everything."

She narrows her eyes at me, and doesn't say a word. She stands up, crosses the room and opens the door. She shoots me a death glare over her shoulder before stepping back out into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind her. I know I'm in the doghouse for that one… but it's the truth. Sometimes we can't control things… no matter how badly we may want to. I know that, and so does she. She just doesn't want to see that right now.

I know she's really pissed when she doesn't show up for surgery prep at 11… and she doesn't scrub in at noon, either. Whatever happened to no running? I perform the craniotomy – flawless, evacuating the clot with speed and efficiency, though I'm only halfway focused – knowing full well that this is turning into a full-fledged 'married fight'. I've been here with Addison – many times. And, though it kills me to admit it, I've even been here with Meredith, too.

Hopefully it'll pass.

I don't want to fight her on this. It's something that we should agree on. But Richard… he's walking a fine line.

"Above all, do no harm."

I think back to a few years ago, when O'Malley (may he rest in peace) called Taylor out in surgery. It took guts, and though it ended the man's career, he saved hundreds – potentially thousands, actually – of people's lives.

I'll simply talk to Richard, that's all. We're colleagues, friends, teacher and student. I won't have to say anything about his drinking; I'll simply ask him if there's anything bothering him. And if he tells me nothing… literally says "nothing is wrong"… well, then he's a damn liar, and I have to tell someone else.

Maybe even the hospital board.

I do understand Meredith's point – the rumor mill, especially around here, would have a field day with this. And I suppose… this would end his career. It would. There's no sense in denying that. I sigh, glance to my watch and realize that I'm late for a consult. This will have to wait…

… but until when? And at what cost?

After my last new consult, I look for Meredith. I find her in the OR Gallery, watching as Cristina operates with Teddy down below. "Hey…"

She ignores me, cold shoulder.

I sigh and sit beside her. "I'm headed home… are you done for the day?"

"I'll get a ride from…" her voice trails off. I know now that she' definitely avoiding me – there's literally no one to give her a ride. Cristina lives across the street. Alex and Lexie are at the house. Izzie's gone. So is George. "Jackson," she says a long moment later.

"If that's what you want."

"Yeah, it is. It is what I want," she replies.

And I know that she's shut me out completely, and that it's better if I drop it. I lean over and kiss her cheek before standing. "See you at home, then?"

She barely nods, so I take that as my cue to just leave.

When I arrive home – to Meredith's house – Mark, Lexie and Alex are all there. I expect a showdown of sorts, but everything is calm. Karev is parked on the couch, an assortment of plates, bowls and cups on the coffee table in front of him, as ESPN plays softly on the TV. Lexie and Mark are dragging trash bags filled with her belongings out to his car – their little chat must have gone well.

Meredith is home by now, and she has joined Alex on the couch. True to her word, she asked Jackson for a ride home.

I sit in the kitchen and wait, trying to decide between telling Mark or not, between betraying Meredith's trust or not, between – in a broad sense – saving people's lives or not. Mark walks into the kitchen and stands in the doorway; he's holding Lexie's hand in his. She looks at me and blushes.

"Hey, man, we'll talk later, okay?" he says.

This gets Meredith's attention; her head snaps up in our direction. I simply nod as Mark continues, "I just wanna go home, spend some time with my girls."

"Pussy," Karev remarks, raising a bottle of beer to his lips to take a long sip.

"Yeah, well," Mark retorts without hesitation, "I'm not the one who's waiting around for an absent wife to show back up."

He's bitter, and I know that Lexie has told him about her little tryst with Alex Karev. I shake my head at my best friend, but I can't help but smile. Lexie smacks his arm and gives him an evil glare. And if looks could kill, Meredith should be under arrest for First Degree Murder, with the look she's just given him. But Alex, for some reason, barely reacts. He just takes another sip.

"We should get going," Lexie urges to fill the awkward silence.

Mark nods and turns. With a wave, he says, "Later, man."

"Yeah, later."

The front door closes behind the dynamic duo. Alex returns his attention to the TV, turning the volume up. Meredith sighs a heavy sigh, and within seconds, is pounding up the stairs.

As the bedroom door slams, Alex smirks and says, "She is pissed at you, Shepherd. What the hell did you do?"

Standing up from my seat in the kitchen, I narrow my eyes at him and say, "Mind your own damn business, Karev." I run my hands through my hair and step toward the staircase. With a deep breath and, admittedly, a count to three – one, two, three – I begin my ascent to the waiting storm – the one I'll refer to as 'Tropical Storm Meredith'.

Without knocking, I enter the bedroom.

She's in the bed, reading a medical journal. Meredith looks up at me and closes the journal, and then tosses it onto the floor. She pulls her hair into a loose ponytail before patting the mattress beside her. "We need to talk."

"I know," I reply as I cross the room. I kick my shoes off and discard my jacket before settling down beside her. "I don't want to fight you on this, Meredith. Professionally, I have a responsibility to report this…"

"But…," she weakly argues.

"But what?"

"But," she says calmly, as if she's had an epiphany. "If you tell someone, anyone… his career will be over, Derek. And I know, I know – rationally, we should tell someone. Because you are right – these are people's lives we're talking about. I remember when George spoke up about Taylor. He did the right thing then. But there were still repercussions on both sides, Derek."

"The longer we wait, though, Mer, the greater the repercussions will be," I say with a sigh, lacing my fingers through hers.

She squeezes my hand. "Just… give me a week. You and I, we'll talk with him together. We'll get him some help."

"He was an alcoholic, Meredith. He needs more than a pep talk from an old student and his mistress' daughter!" My voice sounds angry, though I don't want it to.

Meredith's eyes cloud over, and she looks wounded. After a long pause, she sighs. "Professionally, I agree with you. I do. I'll admit to that much. I don't want to watch him drink his liver away like my … Thatcher did, and I certainly don't want anyone to get hurt. If you're implying that I do…"

"I never said that."

"But it's the implication, Derek! Don't you trust me?" her voice cracks.

I hesitate for too long.

"You don't trust me?" Tears line her eyes.

I run my thumb over the back of her hand as she tries to pull away from me. "Of course I trust you. This has nothing to do with me trusting you. It's the safety of it all, Mer. We took oaths!"

"I didn't… I told you because you're my husband. I told you… as a wife to a husband. Not as a resident to an attending! I'm supposed to be able to trust you with these kinds of things! If I can't tell you my secrets…," she argues, freeing her hand from my grip. "How am I supposed to trust you?"

"There are boundaries, Meredith!" I exclaim. "You're walking a fine line here!"

_Look, I'm drawing a line. The line is drawn. There's a big line._

Her eyes turn dark green again, and her mouth opens and closes in surprise.

"Look, Meredith. The longer we wait, the more trouble you could get into for knowing. It's not like he cut an LVAD wire, or performed unauthorized surgeries in the basement… he's sick. Alcoholism is a disease! He needs help – professional help," I say, taking a few deep breaths to try to gather my thoughts. "What he did the other day… he's scared of messing up again. And now, knowing what I do know, I am glad that he had the sense enough not to. But he's not doing anybody any good by avoiding anything. I know that avoidance isn't the answer. I killed a woman, Meredith. Mistakes were made, and she died. And I thought drinking and avoiding were the only answers – but they're not. They're not," I say, as I reach over and run the pad of my thumb over her cheek.

A tear slips down her cheek. She sniffles and nods.

"And," I say a moment later. "I'm proud of you for telling me. Before, you probably wouldn't have. And I don't need to know how long this has been going on, or if anyone else knows – it's not really my business. I don't want his job, I don't want him to lose his job… to lose everything he's ever worked for. I just want him to get the help he needs. Do you understand the difference?"

Meredith turns in the bed to face me and wraps her arms around me. I kiss her head as a sob escapes her. "Shh. We'll come up with a solution."

"How can you be so sure?" Her question makes her seem innocent, small. Vulnerability soaks every word. "I can't lose my fake daddy, too, Derek."

"You won't. We're in this together. What are the rules of the Post-it, Meredith?"

She bites her lip and doesn't say a word. So I prompt her again. "Meredith."

"To love each other, even when we hate each other. I hate you a little bit right now," she says with a timid smile. I nod and kiss her head, still cradling her close.

"That's okay. What else?" I ask.

She looks up into my eyes. "No running, ever."

"Right," I confirm. "You're not avoiding. I'm not avoiding. We're going to discuss this, first and foremost as a married couple. And then we'll think about it, maybe talk with the chief, and if necessary, take further action. If it's what you want, I will not tell Mark, okay?" She nods. "What else?"

"We'll take care of each other when we're old…"

"And smelly."

She giggles and her eyes light up – my happy-_ish_ girl has returned. "And senile." Meredith presses her lips to mine, and suddenly the tension that had filled the air dissolves. "I love you, Derek."

"Mmm, I love you, too," I reply before kissing her again.

"Promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Let's get married. Really married. Not in six months, not in a year. Next weekend. Not Post-it married. Legal married. City hall, in the backyard, on a ferry… I don't care. I mean it this time, Shepherd," she says with a playful smirk.

"Of course," I reply, barely a second passing between her words and mine. She leans up and kisses me, pressing her lips to mine. It's a kiss of forgiveness, a kiss of hope. She pulls away and rests her head on my chest, her ear to my heart. I place a soft kiss atop her hair.

Silence, with the only sounds being the gentle raindrops against the windowpane and our breathing, consumes us. We're both deep in thought now – Richard, the hospital, career, right and wrong, oaths, promises, married, legal, Meredith, Shepherd – these are the words that are running through my mind.

"We need to make a plan," Meredith whispers a few moments later.

At this moment, I'm not sure which 'plan' she's speaking of – wedding or intervention. But it doesn't really matter, because we'll make it work, we'll figure it out… headstrong and together.

For the first time… we're in this together.

It feels right, almost reminiscent of when we started the clinical trial. But this time, there's no room for error.

We're together.

And that's the most important thing.


End file.
